


Two Men called John

by Minioma



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Origin Story, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26989162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minioma/pseuds/Minioma
Summary: “Your friend was not always the same man you see now, not by sight, not by heart. Once, instead of courage there was cold cowardness. The color of red was not his weapon, but his fear.The shame drove him to punish the one he hated the most. Only by killing the old self could he give birth to a new man. The one who lead his people to a life of freedom.”





	1. Divide

The Goodneighbor was no place for lone drifters. As long as you had shelter you could barricade yourself within, be safe and have time to adapt. But being outside in the mercy of elements and even meaner locals or other drifters was a hard task to adapt to. Even harder when these drifters came from Diamond City, a place they once called home.

Hidden in the shades of night, in secluded street between two high buildings, two drifters, Gerry and Rob did their best to keep themselves warm with thin blankets. Unlike when they were humans the heat would not stay long within their ghoulified bodies, chilling them quickly to the bones, enabling them to move from the spot they were sitting in for a long while now.

Soon enough though both ghouls picked up with their sensitive ears a noise of approaching steps coming towards their hiding spot. For a moment they thought yet another danger was approaching until they saw a handsome man who appeared from behind the corner.

“Johnny! It’s you!” Gerry cheered for the new visitor he was so glad to see.

“Seesh, you’ve been gone for a while now, man”, the grumpier ghoul, Rob said.

“Sorry, I’ve got a lot of business to attend to. You two are okay?” the man asked while kneeling down to his friends’ level and searching through his bag. “Here, I got you something.”

“Finally!” Rob said and latched onto first loaf of bread the human handed to them. Being hungry for two week now made him quite impulsive.

Gerry was patient enough to wait his turn. “Thank you, John. Don’t know what would had happened if you didn’t…”

“It’s not much but it’s the least I could do for now”, John said while looking for his share, avoiding an eye contact with Gerry.

“Well what’s the matter, McDonough? Don’t ya get enough pay now that your brother is a Mayor?” Rob asked, rather mockingly and bitterly.

“No. I... I haven’t come back ever since”, John replied quietly, closing within himself ever more.

“Seesh, well did you at least bash the bastard head for goodbye?”

“No.”

“Shit! I would had grabbed him by his ear and thrown of his high balcony to the ruins. See if he likes to be out here without nothing.”

“It’s not likely the smug lard-head would learn”, John added before changing the subject, just to avoid the uncomfortable topic. “So, how have you been doing? Nothing too bad? How are the others?”

“Could had been a lot better”, Rob grumped. “When it comes to others… um…”

Gerry continued when his friend couldn’t. “The Hopkins and Ellery families’ have been missing for a while. Steve and Will… they got on the bad side of the guards.”

The colors escaped from John’s face when he heard that.

“What about Daisy? Or Ham?”

“They seemed fine”, Rob answered. “Just saw Daisy yesterday. The good girl had decency to share some water.”

The news made John take a deep exhale, making him look less tense than he was already.

Gerry felt pity for the poor man. John did so much to help not only his former neighbors but many others of his friends and fellows he knew back home. All this despite choosing to become a poor drifter like they were. The weight he was carrying on his shoulders was shown through wrinkles and paleness on his face. Once a charming fellow had lost a lot of his charisma and was left with haggard and dirty features all over himself. His harsh looks weren’t any more pleasant ether when both ghouls knew it wasn’t just the elements that were gnawing on this man.

After a tiny meal John started to pack his bag. Rob quickly noticed a tiny aluminum container that ringed, when a little object was rolling inside it or hitting the wall.

“Seriously, man, lay off the stuff already! You’re gonna make yourself an easier target. Wait, why does it glow? What is it anyways?”

“It’s nothing!” John hastily said and puller the bag away from ghoul’s reach, hiding the container deeper within it. “I’ve got it all under control. No need to worry.”

Gerry also saw it. In this dark night Gerry could see that there was indeed something green glowing from the container. If he didn’t know any better, he’d just though John caught a firefly. But knowing John and how he had a habit to get himself into odd schemes once in a while, Gerry could only suspect something bad being contained in that box.

Before the conversation could continue any more, both ghouls picked up another sound. A bit later John heard it too.

Walking, chatter, wicked laughter.

“Shit! Vic’s hounds!” Gerry hissed in fear and like a spring jumped to his feet, ready to make a run for it.

Rob, with his much more weaker legs had to be lifted up by John’s help.

They all had to get as far as possible from the noise. It they stayed out of sight maybe they could have a chance to avoid any trouble this night. Too bad though Rob was unable to run for long, nor could both Gerry or John leave him behind.

The noise from behind them wasn’t the only one. Another choir of yells approached from the other street.

“Here, drifty, drifty! Let’s have a nice little chat!”

With their hearts racing with the speed of a frightened jackalope, two ghouls and a human changed their direction and continue fleeing the other way like they were fleeing from a Deathclaw. Most likely they preferred that beast over these monsters of man.

Their escape ended at the edge of the alley, which lead them to an open, lighted up street. There another pack of bloodhungry guard hounds was waiting for them. They haven’t noticed them though and swiftly Gerry, Rob and John hid themselves.

The focus of four armed men was taken by one of the drifter’s they surrounded. A poor soul was outmatched and defenseless like a radstag with hungry wolves all around him, while some few others were gathered far away in groups, all wrapped in such severe fear they could not run. Only watch as one of their fellows was being mugged.

“So, friend, you got ready your share for the boss? You know it ain’t free to just wander around in this town”, one of the armed men asked.

“I’m telling you, I got nothing. You took it all the last time”, the drifter pleaded, more declaring than trying to make up an excuse.

“Yeah, right. Ruffle him up, boys! This filth has at least one cap in his pockets.”

Right then the whole pack attacked and started to push and hit the guy around, more focused on beating the poor man than trying to find a supposed cap.

The view was unpleasant for the three drifters who were hiding and eyeing on what was happening in front of them. Suddenly though they got surprised when one of the guards was flung back hard. The bullied drifter watched the guy with furious eyes as he yelled.

“You guys ain’t nothing but bloodsucking hounds! If there’s someone who’s a filth it’s you and your son-of-a-bitch Vic!”

The baffled expression spread all around the face of these goons. It was soon replaced though with gruesome fury.

The drifter was slammed on the stone street, against which he hit hard his head. The pain was soon numbed when even harder hits were met on top by the guards’ boots. And not only was his head the target, but his ribs, that broke immediately from an impact, arms and legs that got bruised and teared and his back that snapped like a twig. The men would not use their guns to finish the loudmouth that dared to fight them back. These savages gave the poor guy a long and painful death, one that showed him, as well as all the others around them the fate anyone would suffer if they would ever be defined again. Only at the end one of the guards took out a hard bat he swung down. The blood splattered all over the stone floor when the man’s skull broke open. Even when the guy was already dead, the brute goon would not stop until he got all steam out.

At the end, the guard took a deep breath while looking at the mess in front of him. It was hard to even recognize it for a human. Then he turned at other drifters, who turned skittish and yelped over witnessing their friend or fellow’s cruel slaughter.

“Anyone else brave enough to run their mouth?! No? Then better get those fucking caps ready!”

Soon enough the squad members were pushing others, taking their caps and other belongings. Everyone seemed to learn their lesson as no one after that dared to say anything back anymore and gave up everything they had, receiving all the bullying they got in return. When the job was over, the hounds packed up and left, leaving the frightened filth behind, looking for new pray. The drifters stayed for a long time in their places, recovering from the shock.

Gerry and Rob were also petrified. The red pool they looked at, the gruesome view, it was horrible to look at, but they had no strength to turn their gazes for a long time. Eventually though they broke out of the trance and moved deeper in the allay, trembling and unable to stand straight.

“H… holy shit”, Rob hardly could speak. “They just… smashed him open.”

“That’s too much. For just some caps they barely have”, Gerry added in shock.

The ghoul had enough strength though to look at his fellows, just to make sure they were alright. Right then he noticed John was gone. Turning his head deeper into the alley he could see the man leaning against the wall, breathing heavily.

“John, you alright there, friend?” Gerry called placing his palm on his shoulder.

The man jolted and turned his head towards the ghoul. The charming fellow was absolutely broken. He held his firsts tightly around his small bag, almost choking it. His blue eyes reflected utterly dull expression over what he saw. With all that numbness, Gerry could see some sadness in his face, as well as, oddly enough, frustration.

“He… He could had been helped.”

“What?” Gerry questioned.

“Someone… Someone had to intervene”, John replied in a voice like he was holding himself back.

“Ah, forget about it! I ain’t sticking my neck against those scums!” Rob said, half frustrated half afraid.

“But.. We just all let him…” John tried to continue, but could not anymore.

“John, there wasn’t anything we could do. Let’s just… Let it be.”

Disbelieve mixed with puzzled expression filled John when Gerry said his last sentence. He looked at the ghoul like he could not believe what he just heard.

Gerry sympathized with John’s concern and altruism, but was in the end realistic. Who knew, maybe they could had helped but what then? They could had just as easily end up dead as well most likely.

“Come on, we better get to safety”, Gerry said, hoping to be able to brush off the recent happening from his friends’ head and get them focused on current time.

Rob and Gerry were about to leave, but John took an opposite direction and swiftly disappeared behind the corner.

“Hey, McDonough, where are you going?” Rob called for him.

Gerry quickly caught up to him. The man did not get far when he stood still, searching through his bag for something.

“Hey, John, what is it? Where are you going?”

“I just gotta go. Don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Johnny, it’s okay”, the ghoul reassured. “We’re all in this mess. You don’t have to be ashamed.”

John tensed.

“Sorry, Gerry. I… I really have to. Just… Stay safe. I’ll be back soon. I… I promise.”

Gerry saw no point in trying to push the poor man, so he went along with his wish.

“Stay safe too, friend.”

Without exposing his face at the ghoul John did not pay him the last goodbye and only threw the bag on his shoulder and left in light jog.

With his keen sight Gerry caught a glimpse of the same green glow he saw before, now coming from John’s fist he squeezed tightly around the object he was holding. The ghoul hoped he was just seeing things. Surely the man had enough sanity left to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt himself. Not like this at least.

As much as he wanted though, Gerry could hardly be able to help his friend. Especially when he could barely help himself being all alone with few friends.

A lone drifter wandered around the streets, with no directions, no destinations. What once was a kind and thoughtful ghoul was nothing but an empty husk now.

Rob was gone. The two close friends were unlucky enough to get caught by Vic’s boys and mugged. Gerry got through with just a little shove for being so docile, but the harsher ghoul could not take too much of the touching and showed some resistance. The only payment he got was a pair of broken knees, enabling him from walking at all. If it wasn’t for the infection, Rob would had suffered a much harsher way of living for the rest of his life, being forever immobilized.

"At least I'm no longer a burden", was what Rob said just as grumpily as always when he left Gerry all alone.

If it wasn’t bad enough, John hasn’t been seen for a while now. He promised to come back, but it’s been two weeks now. Someone had to see him, he had nowhere else to go after all.

Gerry asked all his known fellow drifters. Not a single sign. No one has seen him ever since that horrible night. It’s like the ground had swallowed the guy. Gerry had started to have thoughts he doubted. As the time passed though, the thoughts became stronger, making him think that maybe they were true after all. In this cruel world, anything was possible, and for the charming guy to end up… gone… It finally broke the brahmir’s back for Gerry. He had nothing. No one was left around him.

They were all gone.

As the ghoul walked aimlessly, wasting the last energy he still had within his weakened and starving muscles he heard the noises. Earlier this time around as it was just late evening. Gerry saw the new gang of three men walking through the big street. He could differentiate the words.

“The night just started and already got a good stash.”

“Them drifties got it all! Don’t think the boss will mind if we keep part of that though.”

“Nah! Just says: ‘Keep it coming’. Makes them more nervous when they have nothing and things get more heated up.”

“Those riffraff scums ought to know their place. Under the boot!”

Those words were like spikes. Those happy faces made eyes hurt. The confident attitude that made them stood above all else.

It was disgusting. It was unbearable. It all turned red and blurry.

A loud yell of pain woke Gerry up from his bitter thoughts. Two of the guards turned to see their fellow, who was covering his face with his hands. When he pulled them away, they saw a bleeding eye. Right then a small but hard little rock plopped out of the wound and hit the ground clonking. The two guards turned their looks at the only person they saw around: A drifter ghoul with his hand up, as if he had just thrown something. Gerry. These guys turned mad. They were ready to hunt and slaughter.

Shocked by what he unconsciously did Gerry was able to move only when he saw the two armed men approaching fast. The adrenaline took over his body, giving him the extra boost to his weak muscles and run for his life.

Gerry was fast but he could not run forever. The fatigue and starvation would eventually take over him and he’d be the next victim to these savage bloodhounds.

A flash of red appeared in front of Gerry. It had to be an end.

“Over here! Quickly!” a voice called.

Someone grabbed Gerry and pulled him with it. With all the rush and panic the ghoul could hardly differentiate the human figure until the person stopped momentarily to open an alley door and pull both of them inside shutting them in the darkness.

Gerry stayed absolutely still on all fours on the floor as he tried to catch a breath after he had stopped. A harsh hush sounded and Gerry held his breath. Running noise approached. Then they ran pass and quieted down.

The ghoul took a long breath of relieve.

“Well, that sure was a rush. Good thing I found you at right time”, said another person in the darkness.

By the harshness and rashness in the voice, Gerry could swear it had to be another ghoul who was speaking. However, if it was just due to a sore throat, the smell of dead flesh was the big giveaway. He saw in the dark the figure standing in front of him, but could not see the colors and clearer shapes until a ringing clicking was heard and that person lit up a cigarette. The little lighter flame made two eyes shine, which were completely black, from irises to eye whites. Ghoul eyes. The guy himself was not what Gerry expected to see. Dressed in a red coat, big old boots and weird three-cornered leather hat. It almost looked like the guy had just jumped out of one of those history books about revolutionary war or pirates.

“You got guts, brother, but not enough against those scums”, the other ghoul said when breathing out a puff of smoke. “If we really want to show them, we’re going to have to be more prepared. And I think having some firearms won’t hurt either, just to spice things up.”

Confused and puzzled, Gerry could only ask: “What are you talking about? Who are you, anyways?”

The ghoul glared curiously at Gerry looking from below. Smiling he reached out his hand and helped his fellow up.

“Hancock. The name’s Hancock.”


	2. Unite

After short while of admiring the view from the broken balcony, high above the ruins, the revolutionary ghoul turned to Gerry and smiled. “Look at them go! Just a little bit of encouragement and they’re full-heartedly at it. We might be ready sooner than I thought.”

Gerry dared to stand next to this man and look down.

Indeed, the drifters were working and training hard. Many took the advices and tricks they were shown earlier and taught each other some new ones, fighting and tackling, easy not to hurt a fellow friend. Once in a while a gunshot was heard and yet another mannequin lost its head. The progress was growing in their eyes although the start seemed hopeless.

Gerry remembered the first meeting. How he stood among his friends and other drifters, who were nothing but skeptical in front of the lunatic new ghoul no one has ever seen before.

“This is stupid! If we attack one, they will get angry and kill us all!” one of the drifters announced among the crowd.

"Not unless we attack them all at once”, Hancock exclaimed full of daring confidence. “If we all train hard now, the pay-up will be that much sweeter. The point is to take the whole nest down in one shot and squash their bitch of a queen last. Do it with stealth and they’ll never see it coming.”

“And how many fists would that require?”

“No fists needed, unless you really want to. Just plain old-fashioned gun-dance!” Hancock said walking next to a giant crate he kicked over. The lit opened and revealed a big stash of fire-arms. Regular-quality for any poor man but lethal in even unexperienced arms. Hancock picked one of the guns and showed it forward.

“These little beauties ought to teach those bastards a lesson. Anyone up for a try? Anybody? You there!” he pointed randomly at the crown. Everyone turned towards a ghoul woman who also pointed at herself surprised. “What’s your name, sister?”

“Daisy”, the woman answered hesitantly.

“Daisy, dear, why don’t you come up here and show us what’cha got!”

Hancock gave the heavy rifle to his new assistant and pointed at a human shaped carboard far in the distance, which everyone saw only when it got pointed out. Was it always there or did Hancock set this up far longer time ahead?

Without any back-up or long tutorials, the gun sang three bangs and there appeared three round holes on the chest of a fake man far away.

The crowd was astounded.

“Forgot to add the name of a ‘asshole’ to that target, but I think you all got the idea. So, who’s up to teach a lesson that you don’t mess with these people! Not now, not ever more!”

The same way the drifter cheered for Hancock then, the same way they keep cheering nowadays. With better skills grew confidence and with confidence grew to need. Need for revenge.

“I guess it was good Daisy was lucky enough to have that shot back then. It seemed to be a good kickstart for all this”, Gerry said.

“Heh, Daisy doesn’t rely on luck. Good thing she knew her way with guns since 2078”, Hancock laughed.

“And… You knew it all along?” Gerry asked amazed.

“Yeah. That’s why I asked her to play a little act for me. What? It’s a good motivation.”

“You… You sly dog”, the amused ghoul laughed at his fellow.

As much as the weird ghoul dressed in historical duds was smart and charismatic, Gerry was a little wary of Hancock. Who was this man anyways? It seems like he just popped into this world. A complete carefree outsider no one has ever heard anything about and now he has influenced everyone and ran everything like a pro. Even knew some of the drifters better than Gerry did, many things being very personal and secret.

“Ain’t bad yourself, Gerry. In fact, if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t had gotten this far, with all your help as well as the courage you dared to show Vic’s boys in the first place.”

“Heh, flattering. Thanks, Hancock”, he said, a little humbled for such compliment with so much familiarity. “Which reminded me: I never caught your first name.”

The ghoul in red would not answer for a while. Gerry was about to apologize for his nosiness, or lack thereof, when Hancock replied.

“John. John Hancock.”

“John, eh? Heh, popular name”, Gerry replied a little amused. God how many Johns he’s met in just last decade.

“I took it after the big guy himself. Even practiced to copy his signature just for the heck of it.”

“Wait, John Hancock…” the history cells within Gerry’s brain sparkled hard and he laughed. “Oh, I get it! Clever. Really clever. You’re parents must had quite a wacky sense of humor, right?”

“Honestly! These clothes are his”, Hancock announced proudly, opening his arms to present the old moth-eaten rags. “I even took his name... But only the last one.”

Now Gerry became curious. “So, you’re John… what?”

“Does it matter?”

The carefree tone in ghoul’s voice made the other one doubtful.

“I suppose… not.” A thought occurred in Gerry’s mind which made him very anxious.

“You alright there, brother?” Hancock asked, tilting his head slightly to see the other ghoul better as he turned his head away slightly in thoughts.

“Ah, sorry. I just remembered. Got a friend once who was also called John.”

“Heh, popular name indeed”, Hancock replied humorously. “What about him?”

Gerry tensed and crossed his arms to his chest, which slowly started to heat up and sting. “He was a good friend. Did so much for us and other drifters. He wasn't the strongest kind, though, nor bravest, but still...”

“In other words: an ashamed coward?”

That word hit Gerry very painfully, specially how bluntly Hancock said it. “Don’t say that! He was the most thoughtful man there was left. Ever since we got kicked out of Diamond City, no one else cared.”

“And yet this guy cared enough to clean his brother’s mistake but not FIX it?” Hancock said, spitting the bitter words out like vile poison.

“You don’t know him!” Gerry raged, insulted and hurt.

“Oh, I know that guy very well”, the ghoul explained nonchalantly, crossing his arms confidently. “That guy used to be nothing but a scum, looking for a way to redeem himself with little good deeds. Shitty bastards like that dare only to polish the surface. Not me! I’m going to clean up the damn core!”

The smugness this man emitted. Despite the meaning, the deliverance on behalf of someone else’s merit was simply demeaning. Gerry was at his limit.

“That guy ain’t no more. There’s the new me”, Hancock announced, daring to raise his chin.

“The fuck are you talking about!” The fists were forming on Gerry’s palms.

“Easy, Gerry. You wouldn’t hit a friend, would you?”

“Oh, I’m about to!”

“Just make sure not to miss this time. Last time you lost your cool on me you only hit a wall.”

Gerry petrified. “I… I never…”

“Three years ago. Said something about your nut-head brother. Oh yeah, that he was a nut-head! Got even mad when someone insulted Rob, the old grump. Heh, you Gerry always grow a fuss on behalf of others. I even said that you might as well enter someone else’s coffin for them.”

“You never said that! It was… John.”

With sudden silence that appeared the time seemed to stop as well. Gerry stood still like statue. Hancock made no moves, but his grin widened the more shocked the man in front of him turned. The taller ghoul seemed to turn even paler and colder that already dead-looking man could possibly become.

“You… You’re not…” Gerry protested, unable to accept the thought that occurred to him.

“The hidden dark alley. A man with his head smashed open. Guess that was the last thing we saw together. Ring any bells?”

Gerry backed away in horror. “You’re not him! You’re not! John is dead!”

“I’m well alive, Gerry. At least, almost”, Hancock said, rubbing his freshly rotting new textures on his cheek.

The guy had no shame to hide his skin. Gerry realized that only now and noticed something he did not give much meaning to. The skin of a ghoul was indeed somehow different. More glossy, reddish and raw, unlike many older ghouls whose skin had turned more leathery and harder over time. More brittle as the dried skin got exposed to elements, literally collecting experience on the surface of the flesh.

Hancock’s wounds were fresh. This man has only recently turned ghoul.

The pieces were pulling themselves together. The newly born ghoul. All the knowledge of the past self he had. The familiar show-off attitude and charming confidence Gerry thought was lost. The motives to fix things. The familiarity he had towards old friends. _The green-glowing box_. The _radioactive_ green-glowing box.

“J… McDonough?” Gerry asked with dry throat.

Hancock frowned at the name he was addressed with, but did acknowledge it. “That’s right.”

“But… How did you…?” Gerry was about in tears. The relief was unable to resurface from within him. All of him denied that the worst had turned out well, but he also never felt more glad in his life. Looking at his friend, the only clean emotion he had towards the man in front of him was pity. “I’m so sorry. How did this happen?

“It's a fitting punishment, don’t ya think?” Hancock said, raising his shoulders, brushing off the fact that he had just turned his whole life around in a way that did not fit most of the humans.

“Why would you…”

“That bastard deserved to perish!” the spite rose up once again as the man explained. “Could not do a shit and only wallowed in his own pitifulness. That ain’t happening anymore! I’m gonna do something from now on!”

It was weird how John talked about himself like the past-him, the human one, was not the same person at all. However, he could sense why. This man had the confidence. The determination. A real cause he actually stood by and not just say out loud. Hancock was indeed no McDonough and he made damn sure of it.

“But… John, Why put up such show? Why not tell who you really are? To everyone?”

“They don’t have to know”, Hancock said strictly. He turned to see the people beneath them. People he was a part of, now more closely than before. “It’s not relevant. Right now, I’m Hancock, someone who will train up these people and give them motivation. They don't need it coming from McDonough, the same name who drove them away.”

Gerry wanted to protest. Give his friend some encouragement not to be so ashamed of himself. Especially when he had nothing to do with the tragedy all ghouls had to deal with. However, the man was right. Just hearing that last name did make even the docile man like Gerry flinch and even feel bile burning his lower throat. That name did indeed hold a lot of poison nowadays.

“I swear”, Hancock continued, his voice deepening sounding very vile and threatening. “I’ll make that bastard regret. Whether it takes years or decades, he’ll get what he deserves by _my_ hands. But for now, _these_ bastards need a little sense knocked in their skulls first. I only got once request, Gerry.”

“Yes?” the ghoul asked visibly getting concerned when he saw the other one grinning, his malicious black eyes peeking from underneath his hat.

“Once the moment comes, I’ll get Vic.”


	3. Conquer

The sounds of laughter and yells sounded across the dark streets of the city. The only source of light that kept the dark of the night away was the shabby pub taken over by the shabby men, drowning themselves in cheap and shabby liquors. The bitter smell and the noise hinted that the free day for boozing and relaxing had already lasted for quite a while. Hardly anyone was sober and clear-headed anymore. Everyone was at their highest point of enjoyment. It was the perfect moment for them as well as the perfect moment for the sudden intruders.

The glass broke, the army of boots cracked the floor, the yells bounced around and off the walls. Soon after the guns started to sing. The laughter was replaced with wails of confusion, then terror. As the guns sang the blood escaped from the drunken bodies and painted the walls and floors in vivid crimson that shined with every flickering of the gunshots. With time, even the splashes of flesh and skin tissue joined the new decorations when hard blunt weapons landed their hits on the faces of men, who’s night got interrupted by such unexpected intrusion. Even when the bodies were long dead and cooling, some weapons still sang their last songs, letting the frustration of their owners out. The laughter of enjoyment soon sounded again, but not from the cold guards, but from their even colder killers.

The hoard of undead men walked towards the State House. A man peered from the window. He saw them approaching. A dozen-headed army of ghouls against a few last soldiers he had. The chances seemed hopeless. And indeed they were. With bullets planted deep in their chest and head the last bodyguards of the big and pestilent man himself were down. The last obstacle was the door.

With a hard kick it was wide open, showing a stunned man behind it with pistol gun in his hands. As soon as he saw the targets he shot. Every single bullet sank into the cracking wood of the corridors and walls, but none hit the cool flesh of half-dead creatures who invaded the domain of the despicable mobster. Soon the gun clicked, empty of ammo. The man rushed to nearest container. He froze when a sharp knife flung across and landed between his middle and pointing finger, planted deep on the handle of drawer.

“Vickie, Vickie… Nice to finally make your acquittance”, rasped a dry and lifeless voice behind him.

Once Vic turned around, two cooling circles pressed against his throat. Behind the two-piped shotgun stood a man from the past. A revolutionary freedom-fighter that had come back from the dead to punish the oppressor of innocent people. Innocent people that all stood behind him, joined as one, indestructible, filthy force.

Despite facing death that grinned right at his face, Vic was trying his best to stay firm.

“I’ve been hearing a lot of shitty things you’ve been causing, Vic”, the menacing thing replied harshly. “Guess the crown’s been growing too heavy on your head.”

“My men will kill you all”, he threatened in vain unable to speak that clearly as he hoped, fear taking over him with a weapon against his throat.

The ghoulish man under the tricornered hat let out an amused chuckle. “What men? Oh, you mean the men outside. Well, go on. Have a good look! See if they can do a thing.” He pulled back his gun and pointed with it towards the balcony, waving to encourage Vic to go.

The man made one step. None of the dead men did anything. With one move after another Vic slowly but surely moved to the door that lead outside. After turning the heavy doorknob, he heard roaming and cracking. Moving closer and looking down over the railing he saw more dead people and drifters, all gathered around big, bright and blazing bonfire. All yelling and laughing they added more fuel in the infernal fire that grew with size and might. However, none of his guard were among them. Eventually, Vic’s heart jumped when he distinguished what was thrown into the fire. Armor, clothing, limbs. Inside the fire he saw the charred bodies of men.

The rustle behind him made him jump like tiny child and turn around in horror, only to see the dead men walking to his both sides. The leader of the group, walking with his coat waving like the red tongues of fire, stopped in front of the petrified man, eyes narrowed at him. In those black eyes of ink Vic saw the flames dancing, hypnotizing him in his place.

“Guess you had your fun, hope you had a blast. But, all good’s gotta end at some point.”

Vic felt withering hands touching him. Despite the protest he soon found a rope hanging from around his neck. Following the line, he found the other end of it tied on the railing. Shocked he turned to witness the last sight. The hellish gaze accompanying with a smile of a Devil he was about to meet.

“Down goes the tyrant!”

With a hard kick of a boot Vic flung back, spun over the railing and fell down. The rope tightened and a nasty bony crack was heard. The ghoulish men peeked over and looked down. Soon a numb body swung from under the balcony. Then it hid from the view, reappeared and swung back. Back and forward a couple of time, until it stopped dead. The man at the end of the robe did not move. Did not speak, did nothing. This man could not do no evil no more.

The sight took the whole crown by shock. Soon after, though all people, one by one, exploded in roaring hoorays. All cheered and hooted. Gradually all yells steadied into one synchronized scream, which was targeted at one person and changed into one specific word that was repeated over and over.

“Hancock! Hancock! Hancock!”

The person in question did not emote at first. In fact, he was a little lost due to sudden recognition his fellows around him showed towards him. He looked around to see his brothers in arms. Then he looked over the railing to see the rest of his group. They were all supporting him as well. He was the one who made this all happen. He made the great change. He was the one who helped his people.

The people down on the streets quieted down. They were expecting. They knew they were about to hear something.

The man’s hands above them tightened around the wooden pillar of the railing and the gun he held. He was unable to speak. He could not say the words that were building up in him. He wasn’t worthy. But he had to. His people needed to heard it.

“Of the people… For the people!” erupted the mighty words from the ghoul’s mouth.

Another joyfulness yell of the group, another round of call for the name they all rooted for: Hancock.

Safely hidden within the core of the State House the small gang let out the last of steam of excitement of joy they still had in their veins. Everyone retold and acted out the events of the night and complemented each other for great success. Of course, the greatest complements received the fearless leader himself, who after long night had sat down on a big red couch, exhausted and worn out. Eventually a cough caught his attention and he straightened his head, which has been resting on the back of the furniture.

“Gerry! Hey there!” Hancock hailed to ghoul standing in front of him, noticeably exaggerating. The man was indeed overwhelmed himself by the recent accomplishment. “Good job not getting shot. Not that it was even hard. How are ya?”

“Pretty good, Hancock”, Gerry replied in modest manner. “Well, um, congratulations again. You really pulled it off.”

“No, no, no, brother. _We_ pulled it off. Couldn’t had gotten this far without all of ya. Which by the way… Thanks, Gerry. Special thanks to you for helping out.”

The compliment from the great man himself made the taller ghoul shy. “Thanks. It wasn’t much, though.” It meant a lot more than he led to believe. “After all, you started all this, might as well take the blame.”

The ghoul in old outfit acknowledged the other’s notion and agreed. “Guess you got your point.”

“So then… Now with Vic and his hounds out of the way, what were you going to do now, Hancock?” Gerry asked, respecting the man’s insistence to keep his new name, even after this was all over.

Hancock actually looked wondering, and anyone with really perceptive eyes could see his black pupils wandering up from left to right. Guess the question Gerry asked never crossed his mind until now. Eventually though, he shrugged.

"Might as well stay and clear things out a bit. Someone has to keep an eye on the town as well as make sure the throne _stays_ empty. No more of this bull is gonna happen. Ever again.”

A man of his word would never spill nonsense from his mouth for nothing. Hancock was going to make damn sure to keep his vow from that day on.


End file.
